


Forgetting the Future

by CherieoftheDragons (SignCherie), SignCherie



Series: Mirevas Lavellan, canon universe [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Budding Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:53:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SignCherie/pseuds/CherieoftheDragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SignCherie/pseuds/SignCherie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mirevas Lavellan witnessed the horrors of the future in Redcliffe castle. Now she needs Blackwall's comfort to convince herself of his reality here in the present.</p><p>For a prompt from musicalheart168:  The scene in chapter three [of Hiding from Her Eyes] where Blackwall comforts Mirevas when she’s upset about seeing him die in the dark future, but from her POV?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgetting the Future

 

_“We’ll go on ahead, take out as many as we can.” Blackwall’s glowing red eyes met Mirevas’s. “Leliana, you’re the last line of defense. Give them what you’ve got.”_

_They couldn’t hold the demons off, Blackwall and Sera, not by themselves. “No,” Mirevas said harshly, “I won’t let you commit suicide.”_

_“Look at us,” Leliana’s voice was cold. “We’re already dead. The only way we live is if this day never comes.”_

_Did Mirevas imagine the look in Blackwall’s eyes? That he hesitated just a moment, as if he wanted to say something, before turning away to face the monsters?_

Mirevas swung her sword at the straw dummy, again and again, imagining the demons falling before her blade. She wanted to slice them open, sink her blades into their flesh, slash and cut until there was nothing left of them--

There _was_ nothing left of them. They didn’t exist. She’d annihilated them in an instant simply by stepping through a portal.

There was no reason to be angry.

_The door burst open. Blackwall’s lifeless body dropped to the ground with a thud. The demons advanced._

_No._

If only she could get the image out of her mind. If only she could forget--

A flash of brown caught her eye, and she stopped dead. Blackwall, her Blackwall, was standing on the edges of the practice yard, watching her with concern in his eyes.

 _Elgar’nan._ She was barely aware of the sword and shield dropping from her hands.

Blackwall’s brow creased. “My lady, are you well?”

What a question. She shook her head, fighting tears, and then--

She couldn’t help it. She needed to know that he was real. Her feet carried her forward before she could think. She slammed into his chest, throwing her arms around him. _Yes_. He was warm and solid. She pressed her face against his neck. He smelled like leather and metal. She couldn’t have imagined that smell.

For the briefest of moments, Blackwall hesitated, and then his arms encircled her. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head. “Shh,” he said, voice rumbling. “You’re safe now. Nothing’s going to touch you.”

She almost laughed at the ridiculous idea that she was worried for herself. “I saw you there,” she said against his neck. “I watched you die.”

For the barest of seconds, Blackwall tensed. Then he held her even tighter. “I’m here, my lady. Alive and well.”

She nodded without letting go of him. She could feel how real he was, warm in her arms, and it was a balm to her soul. Yes, he was alive. But she wasn’t ready to give up the comfort of his touch just yet. “Just -- give me a minute.”

He said nothing, and she took that as assent. One of his hands moved up her back to cup her head. His fingers stroked her hair.

Creators. The reality of the moment struck her. She was actually in his arms, held tight by him the way she’d dreamed of so many times before.

And she was blubbering on his neck like the pathetic creature she was.

Slowly, reluctantly, she stepped back and out of his embrace. Something flashed across his face. Disappointment?

No. It couldn’t be.

But maybe it was. Maybe -- maybe he wasn’t as oblivious to her as she feared he was. The look on his face now, so worried, so gentle...

She wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry to impose.”

His voice was low, husky. “You could never impose on me.”

Creators. She needed to stop this. He was here to train her with the sword and shield -- she should pick up her weapons and --

Attack him with them. Oh. No, that was not a good idea.

She looked away to hide her face, afraid of what emotions might be written there. “I don’t think I can spar with you today. I’m not really in the mood to attack you with a sword.”

He laughed. “Don’t think I’m tough enough to take it?”

How could she explain? “I’m just not up for it.” But she didn’t want to leave him, either. Out of his presence, the memories would come back, and she’d start doubting his reality again. “Will you walk me to my quarters?” 

His eyes softened, and he gave her the slightest of bows. “Anything for you, my lady.”

The words sent a thrill straight to her heart. He sounded so sincere. Did he mean-- was he saying--?

She’d cared for him for so long, but had never believed her feelings were returned. Now, looking into his clear gray eyes, she let herself hope for the first time.


End file.
